Five Billion Almosts
by RaydorCakes
Summary: They didn't talk about it often, or ever if he were being honest with himself, and he had to admit he was curious. He and Scully had quite a history of almosts. Almost kisses in their own, and various other versions of reality. Night after night almost shared in one another's company. Moments when all hope seemed to be lost, and one of them would almost admit their feelings.


_A/N: This is my first X-Files fic, so please leave me some feedback!_

They didn't talk about it often, or ever if he were being honest with himself, and he had to admit he was curious. He and Scully had quite a history of almosts. Almost kisses in their own, and various other versions of reality. Night after night almost shared in one another's company. Moments when all hope seemed to be lost, and one of them would almost admit their feelings.

It hurt, in a sense, for him to acknowledge so many almost pivotal moments he could've shared with Scully. And seeing her, day after day, knowing that feelings were obviously hidden there, it made him feel like he wasn't good enough. Like maybe the shapeshifter who took his form and seduced Scully offered something he himself didn't. Maybe he was funnier, or kinder, or more sensitive.

He didn't know. But if there was one thing Fox Mulder did know, it was that the truth was out there, and he was determined to find it. With a resigned sigh he picks up his phone and dials Scully's number, which he had memorised by heart.

"Hey Scully it's me." Mulder breathes out as he paces around his living room, "I know it's late but I think I figured something out and you should come over and take a listen."

"Mulder," she yawns, "why can't you just tell me now?"

"Because telling you over the phone ruins the effect." He chuckles, "Come on Scully, please?"

"Okay, I'll be there. But this better not be a joke Mulder." She grumbles.

"It's not. I'll see you in a bit." He smiles before hanging up.

With his plan set in motion, Mulder quickly walks to the kitchen. He knew that at this hour of the night Scully would be uncharacteristically grumpy, and he hoped that a pot of coffee would help make a no doubt awkward conversation easier.

When he hears a knock on the door he hurries over to open it, surprised to find Scully there in a pair of black yoga pants and a t-shirt, her hair relatively disheveled and her face devoid of makeup. "Are you going to let me in or am I just going to stand here?" She questions sarcastically, still slightly annoyed at being woken so early.

"Come in." Mulder steps out of the doorway and motions with his hand for her to enter; once she does he closes and once again locks the front door. "I made coffee." He says hopefully as he watches Scully flop down on the couch, "You want some?"

"Yeah." She breathes out quietly and he looks over to see her rubbing her eyes with a yawn, "This better be important Mulder."

"It is, trust me." He responds as he carries their coffees over to the couch, handing Scully hers before sitting beside her. He watches as she takes a sip, her eyes fluttering closed with sleep before slowly opening again.

"Are you going to tell me or do I have to guess?" She questions, her eyes glued on him and her eyebrows raised curiously, "Mulder?"

"Why do we keep pretending?" He questions with visible frustration, and she sets down her coffee, her eyes scanning over him worriedly.

"Mulder, what are you talking about?" Scully asks in return, "What's going on?"

"I'm talking about you Scully." He begins, his hands resting on his knees, "I'm talking about you and me and all the things that almost happened that we both so willingly ignored."

"Mulder…" her voice trails off and she reaches out unsurely to place her hand atop his.

He doesn't pull away but shakes his head, "This is what I'm talking about Scully." He turns his hand over so that her hand rested in his palm, "When you had cancer, I would sit by your bed every night and cry because I thought I was going to lose you. And when I heard about the rebel attack in Pennsylvania, I was so afraid that you were gone. I found you almost kissing a man who had stolen my identity, and you and I, we… we almost kissed but you got stung by a bee. Why do we just keep pretending like nothing has happened, like nothing has the possibility to happen when the evidence is so clearly displayed in front of us?"

Scully unsurely pulls her hand away from his, her eyebrows knitting together in thought. He raised a valid point, but it was much easier for her to ignore it than it was for her to face the facts. However, it looked like now backing out wasn't an option, and she found it difficult to compose a response. "We've spent nearly every day together for the past five years Mulder, a sense of closeness comes with that."

"So when you leaned in to kiss me, that didn't mean anything? Or when I found you with the shapeshifter, that didn't mean anything either?" He looks up at her, her features still drawn with confusion.

"What kind of answer are you looking for here Mulder?" She questions with a hint of frustration.

"I'm looking for the truth." He states simply, "Just like we always do. But I need to know Scully, we just keep ignoring everything that almost happened, doesn't that bother you?"

"Of course it bothers me!" She exclaims before momentarily going silent, her voice soft when she once again speaks, "I may be the one that almost kissed you, but you're the one that never mentioned it again."

Mulder looks at her with small surprise, her facial features nothing more than a minuscule pout as she toyed with her hands, her eyes avoiding his. "Scully," he breathes out quietly as he turns to face her, "Scully, look at me." He asks quietly, and she hesitantly obliges. "I'm sorry if you thought that I don't care. I do, in fact that's the whole reason I called you in the first place, don't you see that? I wanted to know just as much as you do."

"Look Mulder, it's late." She shakes her head, "Or rather very early, and if all you're planning on doing is talking about the things that could've happened, then I'm going to head home." She stands and Mulder watches her with a sad look on his face.

"There you go, you're doing it again." He stands as well, stopping in front of her so she couldn't pass him, "You're faced with a situation that scares you, and so you ignore it. But I won't let you, not this time."

She looks up at him and frowns, unsure of what to do. Instead, Scully reaches out and gently taps his hand with her own before lacing her fingers through his.

Mulder offers a fond smile and squeezes her hand, his eyes focused intently on her. Only now did he start to realise how small she was, and when he traced her cheek with his free hand, she nuzzled into his touch.

She looks up at him, her eyes big, blue, and wanting. There were plenty of times she had ignored her feelings for Mulder, times she had pretended that her attempts and failures to act on them had never happened. But right now, with their fingers laced together and his hand radiating warmth against the pale flesh of her cheek, she couldn't ignore it, nor did she want to.

Cautiously he leans down, his eyes fluttering closed as he hesitantly met her lips with his own. He can feel her smile before pressing harder against his lips, all of the anger, sadness, and compassion they felt for one another ignited in the small action.

And in that moment, Mulder couldn't've been more grateful. There were no bees, no shapshifters, no sinking ships to ruin the moment. It was just the two of them, together, relishing in the feeling of five billion almosts, and one simple choice.


End file.
